


A boy with a special vision

by thecipher



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecipher/pseuds/thecipher
Summary: ... Psychiatrists do not have the right to treat their patients the way it treats Cipher.They have no right to depend on them, as from a dangerous, but indispensable medicine.





	A boy with a special vision

Molly Middles had a pin.

He knew where she was hiding it: in a shabby box of Christmas cookies tucked into a crevice between the bedside table and the wall. He will shake out all the trash out of it and find it.  
Molly Middles is stupid, and the pin is sharp, very sharp and smart. Pin knows what to do.

The Voice says that he needs to learn to See.  
A pin will help him.

The pin has a long body and a round yellow head. At the pin on the tip, the radiant delta, a small triangle of light reflected from the light bulb. He looks into it, like in a mirror, while slowly putting a pin to his face, trying not to breathe or shake his hand.  
The voice tells him that you can not frown and blink. The Voice promises that it will not hurt.  
Is that a little bit. Very, very little.

He tries his best, but his eyes betray and jerk off by himself, seeing the shining delta on the point. On the wrist, a shiver creeps, seeps into a vein and runs up a string of creepy.  
Closer. Even closer.  
He clenches his teeth firmly, gently touching the green rim around the black dot of the pupil with a pin.  
The voice says that you need to get exactly into its center, into a tiny hole, where the light goes, and then a new vision will open.  
The radiant delta will shine inside and show him everything that was hidden from him before.  
It's fast, just need not think about what will hurt.

His fingers tremble when the tip of the pin slowly moves to the side - the pupil tapers to a tiny point and widens to the size of a button, meeting a reflected radiant glow.  
"Think about what you see," advises the Voice. "Think about that." what awaits you ahead. "  
A little bit more. Deeper.  
In the very center of solid black in the green frame of the iris, a third, half, to the end.  
Yet.  
It becomes painful, and he screams, tearing his throat, pushing the pin inside and bending under a strange, filling eye and head with a weight.  
The darkness of the pupil opens, letting in an unknown light.  
The radiant delta shines on the torn retina, flashes white flame and turns into three burning points, similar to the constellation of the Triangle.  
Now he is inside, he himself became a radiant delta, this supreme omnipotent being.  
He will see every corner of the universe, any world that he desires, everything that has been and will be, all-all-all ...

The pain twists his body into a spiral; he falls to the floor and cringes like a burning paper doll, while something hot and sticky, a stinging cheek and flushing in his mouth flows down his face.  
The fingers slide off the pin head and weave into the hair, tearing the strand behind the strand, compressing the neck and squeezing it, like choking, and the pain, the endless cutting pain, rips it apart, crawling out of the head and grabbing every vein.  
On the right it becomes dark, but suddenly in this darkness lightning and bright lights light up - they form into unknown constellations, strange signs, like ciphers, dazzle with curved lines of unknown letters.  
Here it is, here it is, here it is!  
He Saw.  
The pain is so strong that it hardly feels.  
He himself became this pain, turned into a single whole with her, and she no longer prevents him from watching.  
He starts laughing.  
He laughs and bends on the floor, clutching his hair in his hand, choking with blood and sap, clenching his teeth and laughing, shouting something out loud in an unknown tongue.  
The pin head kisses his right pupil and melts like a piece of ice cream in bright light.  
It does not hurt anymore. Only joyful and easy.  
He Sees.  
He Sees everything ...

... The pin had Molly Middles.

She finds him first and loudly screams, pointing her shaking finger at the body, twisted on the floor, with a face covered with blood and whitish liquid.  
The pin nods to her and disappears completely with a loud sob.

***  
The medical building of the psychiatric clinic resembles a prison - there is not enough just a fence of electrified mesh and armed guards, frozen on the towers.  
From afar, this building and a dreary courtyard make him look dumb and depressed. When the hospital bus drives into the gray gate, cutting off the world of the healthy from the world of madmen, it seems to Dr. Pines that a piece of quiet reigns quietly penetrates into his brain and curls up somewhere in the far corner to stay there forever.

Future colleagues look at him with compassionate interest when he is introduced to them. He tries to be polite: he shakes hands and smiles awkwardly in response to short greetings.  
Dr. Clive, the king and god of this insane world, personally shows him his possessions. He is proud of his work and his " a little fools", as he calls the sick - affectionately and slightly disdainfully, as wonderful tame animals.  
He remembers everyone by name and talks with pleasure about everyone, remembering some funny cases or making remarks about their condition.  
"Mr. Cow lives here," says Dr. Clive, and from behind the door of the ward, as if at a signal, there is a low mooing. "We put him in with Johnny-the cowboy-he knows how to talk to him in the same language." Hey, guys, how are you today?  
\- Mooooooo, - responds from within, and someone's hoarse voice echoes him: "Not bad, doc!"  
"And they are not the funniest guys in our house," says Dr. Clive, and accelerates a step along the long, painted gray corridor.  
Dr. Pines hurries after him, continually shuddering at the look on his face.  
Patients also look at him with interest, but predatory and inquisitive, probing him with their eyes to the very bones.  
Like wild animals in the zoo.  
From these views, he shivers.  
A small old woman grabs his wrist and looks into his face for a long time with his mild, translucent eyes.  
"What a good boy," she squeaks and bruises her toothless mouth, "my son also went in a white coat ... Why does not he come to me?" - She squeezes his hand, digs into the skin with dry fingers and begins to cry. - My son ...  
"She lost her son," says Dr. Clive, when the sobbing old woman is taken to the ward, "he was a doctor in a central hospital." This Amelia Brody, usually quiet, but sometimes finds her. Do not be afraid, it will not harm you. There are a few here, and all of them, believe me, are quite innocuous. You will get used to it, Dr. Pines.  
He squeezes an uncertain nod from himself and very much doubts the words of his senior colleague.  
He does not have the character to get used to.  
... A plaintive old woman's voice and eyes that are transparent to whiteness pursue him for a long time, like inquisitive animal views, strange sounds due to locked doors and a general, at all, sense of doom and loss.

"And this is Bill Cipher. Progressive schizophrenia and a whole bunch of concomitant disorders. But according to your specialization, Dr. Pines, he's all right."  
Bill Cipher lies on a narrow bed screwed to the wall and does not lift his head from a loose pillow, while he is presented as another strange animal and talk aloud about his illness.  
"He was brought from the shelter of Riverley. He put his eye out with a three-inch pin."  
"Why?" Dr. Pines walks slowly to the cot and carefully passes his hand in the air above the head of Cipher, who is still motionless.  
"He does not say anything." All questions are answered by aggression or silence. Because of this, we could not diagnose him for a long time until we applied hypnosis and hid the recorder in his room. He often talks to himself, and yet this is ...  
The hand of Dr. Clive touches a rough wall, painted with incomprehensible symbols. They are like some kind of cosmic cipher and interspersed with figures of creatures resembling fairy-tale monsters.  
Above them, immovably looking with one eye, a huge triangle hovers.  
\- Painters every week paint the walls in his room, and he paints them anew.  
Bill Cipher is still lying face down in the pillow. The fact that he is alive, they say only sharp, nervous movements of the blades under the yellow t-shirt.  
He does not give a look, but he worries. He does not like this conversation over his head - it is said about him as if he is not there or he is dead.

For some reason it is a pity. It's worse than Mr. Cow, old woman Brody and everyone else.  
Dr. Pines lets in a breath and almost weightlessly touches his dull blond hair - they are shorter on the nape than on the sides and carelessly cut off, here and there almost to the very root.  
Bill Cipher flinches and hides deeper into the pillow.  
"Come, I'll introduce you to the others." Dr. Clive pulls Pines by the sleeve of his robe. "For example, with Mr. Tremblay." He considers himself the eighth and a half president of the United States. Very amusing person.

... When they leave the room, Bill Cipher comes to life.  
"Doctor Pine," Dr. Pines hears, and the dervano turns around.  
Bill Cipher looks at him point-blank, and the painful impulse of aching pity again squeezes his chest.  
Bill Cipher is a child. He does not seem to be given more than thirteen.  
But his childish face reflects such a doomed fatigue, which probably did not feel, not one of the healed old man.

***

Dr. Pines looks at Bill Cipher, who is hugging his pillow, and thinks: why do children go crazy? He can understand a thousand reasons that push adults beyond the limits of normality, can explain and even try on themselves to feel, but children? ..  
This boy? Why?

He comes to him in the ward the next day, sits on a chair near the scuffed bed and watches him.  
Daylight falls on his face with uneven glints, seeping from a clogged window, sharpens his already sharp cheekbones, chin and excessively lean body, bulging under the hospital clothes with bumps of bones.  
Dr. Clive said that Sifer's eating disorder - he may not eat for days, and then attack everything he finds edible and starve again.  
Dr. Pines thinks he could give him nutritional droppers - that's all he has at his disposal as a therapist.  
Dr. Clive said that Cipher only talks to himself, and Dr. Pines is convinced of this. Cipher does not say a word to him during the time he sits in the ward. He just pretends that he is not here.  
Doctor Pines feels sorry for him, but he knows that there is nothing he can do to help him.  
If Cipher had looked at him at least casually, he would have seen this pity in his eyes and the lowered corners of his lips.  
But he does not look. His only surviving eye bored the wall, and nothing more.

... After a few silent visits, Cipher finally talks to him.  
""Did the Hog tell you come?" He asks, squinting his left eye, and Dr. Pines twitches from the strange sensation that this child is trying to look directly into his brain and count all the thoughts that swirl there. "Or the Otter?"  
"Mr. Cow," Dr. Pines jokes absurdly, but Cipher does not understand the joke.  
\- What for? What do you need? You are not a psychiatrist.  
\- Why do you say that?  
Cipher shakes his head and smiles at him with the edges of his pale lips - like a stupid baby.  
"You do not have those eyes, Doctor Pine." Others. You just look, but do not dig in my head. Hogs funny when trying to dig. He even sweats his forehead. He's an idiot - I saw a cesspool in his bald head. There stinks and there is nothing worthwhile. He thinks he can dig into strangers, but does not notice how I dig into it.

He has an uneven voice, now and then breaking from a whisper into a cry; he talks too fast and stops for a long time, as if his temporary vocabulary is running out, and he pauses, picking up a new one.  
While he is silent, Dr. Pines tries to understand his words and at least understand something.  
He does not work.  
But for some reason he feels the incomprehensible joy of the fact that this child is talking with him.

"And in the mind of Otter," continues Cipher, "there's a box." Do you know what's there?  
Dr. Pines shakes his head and spreads his hands. He does not know, but Cipher tells him.  
\- Dirty rags, photos of her ex-husbands and cats. A lot of cats. They swelled and rotted.  
Hog and Otter are Clive and Mrs. Oaks, the senior procedural nurse. Cipher gave them very accurate nicknames.  
And, most likely, aptly described their inner world.  
"What's in my head?" You see?  
Cipher crawls over the bed and sits across from him. A serious concentration appears in his gaze; he bites his lips and touches the bandage on his right eye.  
"Well, yes." He nods, and uneven locks of hair fall on his cheeks, hiding their unhealthy swagginess and pallor. - There are books. And the fir forest. And the sun. And deer. I like. I love deer.  
Dr. Pines himself would never have described himself better.  
He is amazed - Cipher as if squeezed it out like a sponge, laid it out on molecules and pulled out the whole essence of his nature.  
It frightens and fascinates at the same time.

 

... Most of the time Bill Cipher is sitting on the bed and looking at the wall. He can sit like this for hours - without moving or reacting to anything. Sometimes his face is animated, showing a variety of emotions, but then again stiffens with a motionless mask.  
Dr. Pines does not understand what might be interesting in the empty wall, what's going on in Bill Cypher's head at these moments.  
What does he see there - pictures from the past, his crazy fantasies or does not see anything, just leaving the world and people and remaining alone with his schizophrenic character?  
"What do you see, Doctor Pine?"  
"The wall," he replies honestly, fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair.  
\- And I see the universe.  
Once Dr. Pines was most afraid of going insane.  
Now he dreams of becoming crazy, even for a minute, to see all that sweeps before the look of this strange child.  
He dreams of seeing his universe, but it remains as inaccessible to him as space.

... Bill Cipher tells him about the cosmos. Swaying like a half-transporter, he describes distant planets, unknown star paths and mysterious nebulae, where the hand of human progress never reaches. He speaks of the burning golden surface of the sun and the sugar taste of plutonic dust. His speech explodes with the birth of supernovae and crumbles with a sparkling starfish of meteorites. Over his head, prominences burn, in his hands, like a motley child's ball, the planet Earth is spinning.  
Dr. Pines listens to him and gradually gets stuck in these stories, as in a swamp, falls to the very bottom, like a splinter from the sky star.  
He reminds himself of Trilby, an enthusiastic Svengali - a mind enchanted and enslaved by insanity.

Bill Cipher is the only child in the hospital. He is not visited, they do not communicate with him. At joint dinners, when all the sick are sent to the dining room to get a tasteless meal, he is always alone.  
No one talks to him. He is avoided.  
With this loneliness and isolation it is very convenient to justify your frequent visits to him.  
No one even suspects that Dr. Pines drowned in Bill Cipher, as in a dark ocean and strangely strives towards him, like a snake to a fakir with a magic pipe.  
He understands that this is wrong, but nothing can be done about it.  
"Tell me, Doctor Pine, are you with everyone like that?" - Cipher is interested when he secretly brings him a tacos from a Mexican eatery. "Or just me?"  
"When, how," Pines answers evasively, and is ashamed of his obvious lies.  
"You're too kind." It's so hard to live in the world.  
Cipher is right - it's hard for him. But there are minutes that pay off this burden.  
And the one, when he thanks him with a smile and glances at the wrist with his child's fingers with bitten nails, is one of them.

***

Little by little, Cipher begins to share his secrets with him. Not sincerely trusting, as children usually do, but with a note of superiority of the wisest creature, who decided to share the grains of his wisdom with someone inferior to him in development.  
He takes his hand in an absolutely childlike way and in an adult way, with some infinite awareness of something above normal human understanding, tells him about Voice and that he began to see and know when he prompted him that need to do. He talks about the radiant delta and Special Vision - "All-Seeing Eye", so Cipher calls it and touches the bandage on the right eye.  
"Can I see it?" Dr. Pines holds his breath and raises a piece of dense black matter, closes his eyes and sharply opens his eyelids. He is worried. Cipher lets him into such depths of his personality that he becomes frightened by such trust.  
... Under the bandage, a short, pale scar is hidden along the stitched empty eye socket.  
And nothing more.  
But Dr. Pines had just begun to forget that Bill Cipher was crazy.

... One day he introduces him to his friends.  
\- It's Frank - on the wall, over the fresh layer of paint painted a man with a jackal head. "He ran away, and I was very angry." But he is still my friend. I miss him. And this is my company - Cipher with warm tenderness shows a group of eerie monsters above his head: a horned woman, a column of jellies in a round hat, a toothy piece of bread and others. "When I get out of here, we'll go on a big trip, but for now I'm just talking to them." And this is me, "he nods at the flying one-eyed triangle flying over the whole of this pack. - So I really look. Before, I did not know this, but Voice told me and helped me see. If you had a special vision, Dr. Pine, you would also see. Everything, everything in the world.  
"And your universe?"  
"A lot of things".

 

... He regularly draws walls in his room, and Dr. Clive punishes him - for this and for the fact that Cipher tries to hit him when he takes away his stolen marker somewhere.  
He is tied up with his hands and locked in an insulator, pumped up with neuroleptics and soothing.  
Dr. Pines does not see him for several days, and all this time he's going crazy with worry.  
When Cipher is released, he rushes to him and with pain in his chest looks at the wiped wrists, red stripes from bandages and dark purple bruises in the bends of elbows.  
\- Let's not paint on the walls anymore? - he asks, and on the first day off he buys a pack of clean paper in the supermarket, and, after thinking, a set of soft markers.  
"Why not pencils, Doctor Pine?" Are you afraid that I'll make myself a second eye or do something else?  
Yes, this is exactly what he is afraid of, but he is lying that there were no pencils.  
He suffers bruises and deep inflamed wounds from the teeth in Cipher's arms, to be plagued by pity for him.  
He tells Dr. Clive that this is too cruel, and he reproaches him for his weakness.  
\- You would never have a good psychiatrist.  
Dr. Pines knows this very well.  
Psychiatrists do not have the right to treat their patients the way it treats Cipher.  
They have no right to depend on them, as from a dangerous, but indispensable medicine.

Cipher does not paint on the walls anymore  
Dr. Clive thinks this is the result of punishment, but Dr. Pines knows how it really is and stealthily carries Cipher with new packs of paper.

All schizophrenics have some talent - as they write in scientific books. Someone composes poetry, someone brings out brilliant mathematical theories, someone creates symphonies.  
Dr. Pines looks at Cipher's drawings and is surprised: he is very talented. He has an easy hand and an amazing, crazy imagination.  
He paints cosmic landscapes and striking creatures - sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly, but always attracting the eye.  
His universe is imprinted in white sheets and comes to life on them, drawing them into their heads.  
They sit side by side: Dr. Pines's knees are littered with paper - he carefully takes the picture after drawing, and Cipher tells him about each of them, pressing against his shoulder.  
So close he does not admit anyone, to no one so unfolded, and Dr. Pines carefully keeps these closeness and candor, as something very fragile and very expensive.  
And ever deeper, all irretrievably drowns in him and in his madness.

In one of the drawings he sees himself in the middle of the stars and that same one-eyed triangle, hovering near the face. He glows with a small yellow sun, and the rays of his light stretch towards him like hands.  
"It's an invitation," Cipher whispers, finding his hand and squeezing it almost to the point of pain. "Come with me, Doctor Pine, and I'll show you my universe." I'll give it to you. Want to?  
He whispers incoherently and gruffly, without letting go of his hand and snuggling closer and closer. He slips his cheek on the shoulder, puts his nose in the island of naked skin over the collar, burns the temple with a faint, agitated breath.  
"I'll give you all the Universes, your own galaxy, whatever you want, just agree!"  
Cipher asks, without stopping, grabbing for him, smashing and clinging to his nails a white robe - for a moment it's scary, but then the fear goes away.  
There remains a desperately sharp sense of involvement and need.  
An inexplicably sweet anticipation of secrecy behind a shaky normality trait.

Dr. Pines really wants to see his universe.  
He covers his eyes and nods slowly, accidentally dropping his head on the dull light side of the head.  
And a viscous abyss closes over it.

 

***

... Dr. Pines did not have a pin.

He does not lock the door for the night, and Cipher cautiously makes his way to him, skillfully hiding from the orderly on duty in the corridors.  
His hands are piled with a boat, as if he carries a butterfly or a wounded chick. When he opens them, a long pin-shaped body gleams copperily on the pale light of the table lamp.  
Madness is contagious, thinks Dr. Pines.  
Cipher infects him to the end - every step towards him, every move in his direction, glances, words, touches of thin hands and a quick obsessive whisper from ear to beating in the jugular pit of the artery.  
"It will not hurt," he promises. "Do not blink."

... The iris of the brown eye becomes almost black, drowning in the darkness of the dilated pupil.  
\- You will all see - a voice flows into his brain, like a muddy river with poisonous sweet water. - You will see my universe. Our universe.

The pin is very close.  
Even closer. Yet.  
Cipher sits at his feet, his head resting on his knees trembling with fear and anticipation.  
In his left eye sparkle distant stars.  
Yet.  
The pupil tapers.  
The tip of the pin kisses a tiny hole where the light oozes.  
Deeper.

... Hot palms are wandering on the cheeks, open from pain, the mouth touches something soft and moist, picking up sticky transparent-red drops.  
The pain explodes with a dazzling, burning out all flash, pierces like a lightning bolt, raises it and throws it hard on the floor, breaking every bone.  
Even deeper.  
Something is tearing in the painful eye, and it's getting dark.  
And then he begins to See.

The new universe blooms before him, sparkles with myriad lights, calls for a multitude of roads. His hair touches the prominence of the sun, and the triangle with the voice of Cipher tells him that this is only the beginning, and they will go on and he will show him everything in the world, past and future, other worlds and dimensions, he will lead him into the very heart of the cosmos and give it away just like that - because it can and wants to do it.

... Dr. Pines did not have a pin.  
He had and is only Bill Cipher.

He embraces him, lies down by his side and breathes intermittently in his hair, snatching the sweat soaked from the sweat of his lips.  
He holds it so tightly that no power can tear it away.  
He touches the wet sticky path with his fingers and watches the All-Seeing Eye open on Dr. Pines's pinched face.  
He is waiting for him on the edge of his universe and he knows that soon, very soon, they will meet.

... The pin winks farewell to him with a copper curl and dissolves in the smeared fusion of the iris and black pupils.  
And somewhere in a strange world, outside the divided madness, a loud squeal of an alarming siren is heard.


End file.
